Flashpoint
by razztaztic
Summary: A place for one-shots related to 'The Flash.' Although other characters will appear, the only ship I sail on is #WestAllen. Chapters are unrelated unless otherwise indicated.
1. Chapter 1

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They were in the den, battling their way through the final level of the hot new video game released just days earlier, when the front door opened.

"BARRY ALLEN!"

Despite being only minutes from beating the game, Wally West immediately tossed the controller aside and scrambled to gather his jacket and the shoes he'd kicked off hours earlier. Barry watched him, bemused.

"What are you -"

"BARRY!"

The echo of a door slamming reverberated through the house. Wally paused only long enough to snatch the bowl of popcorn from the coffee table.

"I don't know what you did, but I don't want to get hit by the shrapnel."

He was gone before Iris appeared in the doorway. The only thing missing was steam coming from her ears.

Barry took one look at her face and let the game die on-screen. He pushed to his feet and tried to play it cool.

"Well, hey there. I . . . I thought I heard you come in."

Her voice dropped to near lethal levels. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

His brain emptied. And then went into overdrive. He could think of several recent incidents that had almost ended in catastrophe or serious injury, and he'd rather hoped she would never know about any of them.

"Uh . . . Find out about . . . what?"

The rolled-up newspaper hit him in the stomach with enough force to draw a soft _oomph_. Hands on her hips, Iris glared at him.

"Go ahead," she hissed. "Open it."

He did. It was the newspaper from National City. He scanned the front page, seeing nothing but the usual reports of political maneuvering, crime reports and . . .

Oh.

She knew the instant the truth dawned.

"You gave Cat Grant an interview?"

The question sounded like an accusation. Barry took one step back.

Iris took two steps forward.

"No. I mean, I was . . . I was up there and . . . Okay, well . . . maybe, but . . . See, it was just . . ." He couldn't get the words out, not with her tracking his footsteps like a miniature tigress ready to pounce.

"The newspaper here in Central City, you know, _the one I work for_ , is bleeding subscribers. We lose money every day." She continued to advance as he backed away, not stopping even when he tripped over a small footstool in his haste to get out of her range. "But you know what we do have? You know what still sells out daily editions and ad space?"

Barry hit the wall and could go no further. Iris grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands and jerked him down to her level.

"We have The Flash. Right here, in our own city. Our very own superhero. AND YOU GAVE CAT GRANT AN INTERVIEW!"

"I didn't think . . ."

"No, you didn't!" she snapped. "Why would anyone buy our paper when they can pick up National City's and read their two-page spread!"

Barry couldn't help but glance down at the newspaper he was still holding. "She gave me two pages? Wow, that's -"

"BARRY!"

He snapped back to attention.

"How could you do that to me?" she asked. "I work there! Don't you know how fragile our industry is right now? People get laid off every week! Whole departments close down. I could lose my job! And besides, I'm your . . ."

She finally sputtered to a stop. They'd never actually put a label on their relationship.

Barry saw the flicker of uncertainty on her face and let the newspaper fall, forgotten, to the floor. He cupped her face between his palms.

"You're the reason my heart beats."

The ire drained out of her. He watched her fight a smile. "Barry . . ."

"You're every breath I take." His thumbs caressed the softness of her cheeks.

"You know that's not what I meant." She was pleased, and trying not to show it, and he was irrevocably smitten.

"You're the reason I get up in the morning. Or," his voice dropped as he stared at the lush curves of her lips, "the reason I don't."

Heat brought a flush to the warm gold of her skin. "You're trying to distract me. I'm not . . ."

He cut off her words with a kiss. She was still holding on to the front of his shirt; when their lips parted to allow for the hungry sweep of tongues, Iris sighed and leaned into him.

Her eyes stayed closed when Barry nibbled his way to her ear. "I'm still mad at you."

"I know. I feel awful about that." He tugged her shirt free of the waistband of her jeans and slipped his hands underneath. "I'm ready to apologize - right now."

The busy work of his fingers made her gasp. "We're still going to talk about this . . . after."

"Right. Yea. Sure. After."

When Barry scooped her up in his arms, the bright sound of Iris' laughter lingered in the air long after the door to their bedroom snapped closed.

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 _Thanks for reading!_


	2. What Dreams May Come

_Warning: Based on the promo for 2.12 so here be spoilers!_

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Something was wrong. Barry knew it . . . felt it . . . even as he raced toward Wally to pull him away from the car speeding out of control.

"Why are you slowing down?" Caitlin's voice in his ear confirmed his suspicions. "Barry? Is everything okay? I've been monitoring your speed and - -"

"WATCH OUT!"

Wally's panicked cry drowned out the sound of Caitlin's explanation. Spinning dangerously, the souped-up race car struck the curb at an angle and tilted to one side. Screaming, the crowd scattered out of the way as the vehicle cruised for several feet on two wheels, then clipped another car, turning it on its roof and sending it sliding along the pavement until it crashed into a concrete barrier. The expensive machine crumpled like tin foil, sending bits of metal and shards of glass flying.

As if in slow motion, Barry watched one of those sharp, jagged pieces hurtle straight into the heart of the crowd, straight for . . .

"Iris . . ."

He wasn't going to make it. His feet moved like lead, as if something pulled at him, weighing him down, making every step an effort . . .

He tried to run faster . . . pushed himself harder in a race against time, watching helplessly as that bit of broken glass outpaced him . . . got ahead of him . . .

He wasn't fast enough.

"No! Iris!"

He saw it happen, watched her body take the hit, saw her flinch with the impact and then look down in shock before her eyes rolled back in her head and she crumpled . . . and then he was there, finally at her side, too late to do anything more than catch her limp body before it hit the ground.

"No no no no no no no. Iris. Iris. Iris."

Sirens blared through the night, drawn by the sound of the collision. As they got closer, the crowd, gathered illegally, scattered until only Joe and Wally remained.

Barry knelt on the ground, still holding Iris, unable to look away from the bright red blood seeping out around the razor-like glass still embedded in her flesh, above her heart. He refused to let anyone pull it out, afraid to cause more damage.

"I couldn't get there . . . I wasn't fast enough. I wasn't fast enough. It's my fault. I couldn't get there in time. I couldn't get there."

"Barry." Joe didn't even realize he used Barry's name, and neither man noticed Wally's start of surprise, or his quick, assessing glance at the speedster. "Barry, we have to get her to the hospital. Now. Right now."

Squad cars screamed to a stop around them. As doors slammed, Joe yelled back over his shoulder.

"We need an ambulance! Call 911!"

Barry's arms tightened around Iris. "I'll take her - -"

Joe squeezed his shoulder, finally aware of the officers crawling over the scene of the crash. "No, son. The ambulance will take her. What you can do, Flash, is go get Barry, okay?" He waited until Barry looked up and then nodded. "Iris is going to need Barry Allen. You go get him and tell him to get to the hospital."

Barry held her until the last second, and then walked beside the stretcher as it was loaded into the ambulance. Joe climbed inside, too, repeating his instructions as the doors closed.

"Tell Barry Allen to get to the hospital."

He ignored everything, including Caitlin and Cisco's unending questions about what was happening, and even with his speed compromised, made it to the hospital only minutes after the ambulance. Pacing restlessly, Joe and Wally turned when he appeared in the door of the waiting room.

"Well?"

"She's in surgery," Joe said gruffly. "All we can do is wait."

So wait they did. Thirty minutes passed, and then an hour. The time stretched into almost 90 minutes when a scrubs-clad figure threw open a set of double doors and approached the men. His somber expression froze the breath in their lungs.

"I'm sorry . . ."

"No." Barry shoved past Joe and put his hands on the doctor. Neither of them paid attention to Wally, who collapsed into a chair and dropped his head in his hands. "No. You're wrong. YOU'RE WRONG! You get back in there and - -"

Tears ran thick and heavy down Joe's face as he tried to pulled Barry away. "Barry . . ."

"NO!" Barry's voice bounced off the walls and echoed down the corridor. The pain was crushing, the fear an icy weight that turned every heartbeat into a spike of agony. "No! No! Iris! IRIS! IRIS!"

He shook off the hands trying to hold him back. If he could just get to her . . . if he could just see her again . . . He could fix it . . . He could fix it . . .

He just had to get to her . . .

"IRIS! IRIS!"

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"Barry. Barry, honey . . . Barry!" Long fingers slapped at his damp cheeks. "Barry, wake up. Barry!"

Barry came awake with a jerk, opening his eyes to see Iris sitting in bed beside him, looming over him, her eyes huge and worried in the shadows that filled their bedroom.

"Iris." His arms crushed her close, holding her so tight she couldn't prevent a gasp of pain. "I thought I'd lost you . . . I couldn't get there . . . I wasn't fast enough . . . Oh, God, I thought I'd lost you . . ."

She managed to draw back just enough to touch his face.

"It was just a dream," she murmured. "Just a dream. I'm right here. See?" She grabbed his hand and laid it over her heart, over a scar long since faded by time. "Feel that? I'm fine. Okay? I'm right here. I'm right here."

He cupped her face in his palms, his heartbeat still racing as the dream - and the memories – refused to fade. "Don't leave me, Iris. Don't ever leave me. Okay? Ever. I get to die first, alright?"

A twinkle of humour replaced the worry in her eyes. "Sure. Whatever you say. You're dying first. It's a deal."

That bright, pretty smile he loved so much acted as a soothing balm to his fear. Barry laughed, a deep, husky chuckle that vibrated through both of them. He touched her lips with his and let the kiss linger.

"I love you."

Determined to put the nightmare behind them, Iris deliberately shifted closer and wedged one slender thigh between his. "Prove it."

He was more than willing. A gentle nudge rolled her beneath him; Barry followed up the change in their position by nibbling his way down her neck to lap at the curve of her shoulder and the soft skin revealed when he pushed the strap of her nightgown away.

"mmmmmmm."

Iris' hum of pleasure sent his heartbeat racing again, for much more acceptable reasons. He cupped her breast in his palm and moved lower.

"Mommy?"  
"Daddy?"

The little voices coming from the doorway put a screeching halt to Barry's caresses. His head rose; their eyes met in a moment of shared disappointment.

"Hold that thought," he whispered. He stole one more quick kiss then turned toward the door. Beside him, Iris rose up on one elbow to look in that direction, too.

The twins stood just at the threshold, lit from behind by the glow of a small lamp left burning in the hallway. Dawn's hair was a wild halo of curls, her legs and feet bare beneath the hem of a bright yellow nightgown. Beside her, Don was barefooted, too, with the pooch of his belly visible as he chewed on the bottom of his t-shirt.

"Hey, guys." Barry kept his voice low and hushed as he spoke. "What are you doing up this late?"

"I had a bad dream." Dawn reached for her brother's hand, and leaned in close until their shoulders touched.

"I had a bad dream, too." He let the damp end of his shirt fall back down; together, he and his sister stared across the room with the same woeful pout.

Barry looked at Iris. With an amused shrug, she slid the strap of her own nightgown back up on her shoulder and moved over to the edge of the bed as Barry held his hand out toward the children.

"Come here."

An invitation was all they'd been waiting for. They scampered across the floor and with the ease of familiar habit, crawled into the big bed and found their usual places.

Barry hugged Dawn into the curve of his body as Iris did the same with Don.

"I had a bad dream, too," he said softly, pressing a kiss against her temple.

"You did?" Her dark eyes, set in a miniature version of her mother's face, blinked up at him.

"Uh huh." He grinned across the small bodies at Iris. "Mommy made it all better. She's magic."

Two little heads immediately swiveled in her direction.

"Are you really magic?" Don asked.

Iris nodded solemnly. "Yes, I am. Want to see some magic right now?"

They did.

She lifted her free hand and, waving it in the air above them, rubbed her fingers together.

"This is magic fairy dust, made just to help little boys and girls sleep and forget all about bad dreams. Do you see it?"

"I see it!" Dawn cried.

Not to be left out, Don immediately agreed. "Me, too! I see it!"

On the other side, Barry tried not to laugh. "Now you have to close your eyes so it will work."

Two pairs of eyes closed, leaving thick lashes lying in crescent moons against their cheeks. Warm and safe, they were asleep again within minutes.

With a hint of lingering concern, Iris watched Barry.

"Are you okay?"

He looked down at the bodies of their sleeping children and then at her, and the last memory of the crushing pain and fear of his dream faded.

"I am now."

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 _Thanks for reading!_


	3. Crowning Glory

_Because there's nothing Barry won't do for Iris, a little bit of fluff from their childhood._

 _(My heartfelt thanks to_ __BlackBellaDanna for her quick review and edit of this chapter! Thanks for being so gracious with your time and assistance!)__

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Barry Allen loved Iris West before he knew what love was.

He loved everything about her. He loved the way she ate dinner, one item on her plate at a time. He loved how she sang in the car, loud and off-key, when her favorite song came on the radio. He loved the way her eyelashes curved at the ends and how when she laughed, her eyes smiled before her lips did. He loved the way the entire house smelled of the apple-scented lotion she used when she got out of the shower.

He especially loved that she was just, so pretty, inside and out.

He found her endlessly fascinating and watched her so closely that Joe's concerned-father radar went off . . . for all of about 24-hours until he realized that Barry's adoration of his daughter was innocent and heartfelt, and meant his baby girl had one more champion ready to slay dragons for her.

And Barry was ready, no matter what kind of dragon he had to take on. So when he heard a frustrated growl coming from the living room on his way downstairs one Saturday morning, he immediately detoured in that direction. Breakfast could wait.

He found Iris sitting at the computer, the big, clunky desktop that took up most of the surface of an equally big clunky desk that Joe had deliberately placed in front of the center window, right out in the open. Joe reasoned that if his kids were going to be playing around on that new "internet" thing, he was going to be able to see what they were up to.

Only, Iris didn't look like she was playing or if she was, she didn't seem to be having much fun. She was still in her pajamas and robe, with the bright green fuzzy slippers he'd given her for Christmas kicked haphazardly aside. On the monitor, small, somewhat blurry images of intricate hairstyles featuring braids and twists scrolled past; judging by the way her hair stuck out at wild angles, not to mention the assortment of styling tools and products scattered across the desk beside her she was attempting to recreate one of those hairstyles, and failing miserably.

Looking at all the hair stuff, Barry was almost afraid to speak up. "Iris? What are you doing?"

Her hands slammed down on the keyboard. "I'm trying to do my hair! These are supposed to be easy!" The screen flew by as she scrolled back to the top. "Look! See right there? It says, _Easy Styles_! Easy!"

They didn't look easy to him.

"Why don't you print out what you want and take it to that place you go to with Officer Morris? I bet they could do it." He didn't know much about the mysterious beauty salon she sometimes disappeared to, but it seemed to him the perfect solution. Every couple of weeks, one of the women in Joe's squad would pick her up on Saturday morning and even though she was gone for hours, she seemed to enjoy whatever they did there and somehow always came home looking more beautiful than she left.

"I wanted to do it myself." She hunched inward, her head bowed low. The pose, and the uneven bunches she'd gathered her hair into, left the nape of her neck exposed. Barry found himself unable to look away from that small, vulnerable patch of soft brown skin. "If my mom were still alive . . ."

He wasn't prepared for the little sniff she gave, but the sound immediately straightened his spine. He spoke before he even knew what he was going to say.

"Don't cry, I'll help you."

"You're going to help me with my hair?"

Iris looked at him over her shoulder. Her gaze was skeptical but her eyes were damp and that sparkle of tears strengthened Barry's resolve. The 12-year-old's narrow shoulders squared.

"Why not? It's just geometry."

Outrage replaced skepticism. "You think my hair's a math problem?"

"No." He automatically took a step back, then shrugged and stepped up beside her to point at the hairstyle in the middle of the computer screen. "Well, yea, kind of. I mean, look at that one. See how it's divided into quadrants? Then it looks like all you have to do is braid it so -"

"Those are twists, not braids." Iris made the correction as if she expected him to understand.

He didn't.

"What's the difference?" When she just sighed, he shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Just tell me what to do. I can figure it out." When she still seemed uncertain he held up his hands. "Four hands are better than two, right?"

Biting her lip, Iris considered him thoughtfully.

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Two hours later, the front door opened. Joe dropped his keys into the ceramic bowl on the table just inside the foyer.

"Hey, I'm home. Where are -"

He came to a dead stop. Barry was on the couch with Iris on the floor in front of him, sitting between his knees. Paper was scattered all over the sofa and the coffee table, pages and pages printed from the computer with pictures and instructions for a variety of braided hairstyles, along with two wide-tooth combs, coconut oil, hair ties and a small spray bottle. Iris held an oversized mirror in one hand while behind her, Barry held another, angled so that the back of her head was reflected in the other mirror.

"How about that? Is that straight enough?" His voice was muffled by the end of a large clip he'd stuck in his mouth.

Before Iris could answer, Joe interrupted.

"What is going on here?"

Neither child looked back at him. Instead, Barry tilted the mirror a shade to the right and released the clip in his mouth.

"I'm helping Iris with her hair," he said.

"You're helping I-" Joe's chin dropped. Stunned into silence he simply watched the two of them for a few minutes until, following more instructions from Iris, Barry dropped the mirror, removed a clip from another section of hair and picked up the spray bottle.

"Two squirts, right?"

"Yep!"

Joe shook his head and backed away, leaving the two of them alone.

"Helping Iris with her hair. Oh, that boy's got it bad," he muttered, as he headed upstairs. "That boy's got it real bad."

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 _I thought Barry could use a little practice before Dawn arrived. :-D_

 _Thanks again to_ _BlackBellaDanna for taking the time to look this over for me. Your advice and suggestions were excellent and very much appreciated!_

 _Thanks for reading!_


	4. Rock-A-Bye Baby

_Spoilers for the promo for S2.16._

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Iris West was drunk. Not sloppy, hold-my-hair-while-I-puke drunk but giggling, laughing, adorably buzzed and tipsy drunk. And a tipsy Iris was a handsy Iris. A tactile person by nature, the addition of alcohol made her more so and the object of all that touching was the man who never seemed far away . . . Barry Allen.

At the table, she leaned into him, merging their bodies from hip to shoulder until they looked like two halves of the same person. Coming back from the ladies room, she draped herself over his back, wrapping her arms around his neck and laying her cheek against his as she laughed at a joke that he couldn't hear over the roaring of blood in his ears. She insisted Barry dance with her, and once on the floor, moved against him so sensuously, he thought the soles of his shoes would melt from the heat.

Fate was laughing at him, Barry decided, and knew it was true when Wally left the club with a girl he knew from the racing circuit, unwittingly taking Iris' keys with him - which included the key to her apartment.

Iris shrugged it off. "I'll just go home with you. Oh!" Bouncing on her toes, she grabbed Barry's arm. "You can do the Flash thingie!"

Barry winced and gingerly loosened her grip before her nails left permanent marks in his skin. "Or we could call a cab."

She pouted. Genuinely pouted. "But I want you to do the Flash thingie."

Cisco snickered into his beer. "Yea, Barry. Do the Flash thingie."

He knew when he was beat and simply shook his head and took the half-empty glass out of her hand. "Okay, but let's go now. I think you've had enough to drink."

Iris squealed with childlike anticipation, clapping and bouncing on her toes again. She waved a jaunty goodbye to Caitlin and Jessie out on the dance floor, and went willingly when Barry lead her toward the back exit, where they could leave in relative privacy. When he swept her up in his arms, she draped her arms around his neck.

"Is there anything I need to do?"

Barry smiled down at her. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright and while he knew some of that was directly related to the number of drinks she'd consumed, he also remembered seeing that same face when they'd ridden the biggest roller coasters together as children and teenagers.

"Just hang on."

He took off, leaving Iris' scream of laughter drifting in their wake.

The trip would have been over in mere minutes but her obvious enjoyment made him stretch it out. Instead of going straight home, he took a route that swept them through the streets of Central City near her office and the police station before it finally ended at the front door of the house they'd both grown up in. Iris was still laughing when he set her on her feet.

"That was great!" They were barely inside when she threw her arms around him. "Let's do it again! Right now! Can you go faster?"

Her excitement was contagious. He couldn't help but grin. "Yea, but I didn't think you'd want your clothes to catch fire."

Iris jumped back, alarmed, scrambling out of her jacket and letting it fall to the floor as she checked the pretty blue dress for flames. All that sudden movement was too much for her inebriated condition; she lost her balance and swayed where she stood. Her purse dropped to the floor as one hand went to her forehead. "Whoa . . ."

Barry steadied her in place, his grin changing to a look of amused sympathy. "Everything spinning, huh? Come on, let's get you upstairs."

She protested on every step but followed his lead anyway. Inside her old room, she fell prone across the bed. Barry went to the foot and tugged at her shoes. A whimper of pain halted him.

"What's wrong?"

"Shoes are too tight," she mumbled into the pillow. "But they're so cute . . ."

Barry studied the bare foot in his hand; sure enough, an angry red line marred the otherwise smooth surface below her toes where the shoe had bit into her skin. He sat down on the edge of the bed and began to massage the tender area. Acting on impulse, he let his hands vibrate as they squeezed.

"Oooooooooooh . . ."

The husky groan stopped him in his tracks.

"No, don't stop." Iris rolled to her back and scooted a few inches lower in the bed until she was close enough to rest both feet on his knees. "Please, it feels so good . . ."

He swallowed hard, immediately rethinking the wisdom of his actions as he looked up the length of her body. As tiny and delicate as Iris was, she had miles of leg for her height and at the moment, with the short skirt hiked even shorter, every inch was on display. She rubbed at his thigh with her toes.

"Barry . . . "

Jaw clenched, he gave in. When his hands began to vibrate again, Iris moaned like a woman in the throes of ecstasy.

"Yes. Right there . . . right . . . there . . . That's . . . it feels . . . so . . . good . . . Don't stop . . . don't stop . . ."

His own reaction was physical and instinctive. Blood pooled in his groin, hardening his erection to the point of pain. Eyes closed, Barry worked on her feet while he struggled to find something - anything - that might distract him from the noise she was making.

He recited the periodic table, and then did it again backwards.

He tried to remember every word of Klingon he'd memorized when he was thirteen.

He pictured his high school gym teacher and tried to recall the smell of the corpse found last year when workers demolished the old sewage treatment facility.

Nothing worked. Nothing erased the images in his head created by the erotic sound of Iris in his ears.

"God, Barry. You can do this to me every night . . ."

It was too much. He shot up from the bed and backed away.

"Okay, you're good. I mean, I'm good. I mean, your . . . your feet are . . ." His traitorous brain refused to form a coherent thought, not with the bulge pulsing beneath his zipper. "Goodnight, Iris. I'll . . . I'll . . ."

"What was she like? Do you miss her?"

The soft whisper froze him in place halfway out the door. Panic on his face, he clung to the handle like a drowning man with a lifeline.

"Who? What was who like?"

"Me. The other me. The other Iris." Drowsy and slumberous, Iris gazed at him through the silver moonlight that filled her bedroom.

"Uh . . ." Barry was nonplussed. She'd been quiet on the subject since the night he'd revealed the story of Earth-2 and truth be told, he'd been too grateful for her silence to question it. Now, he shrugged as he stepped back into the room, helplessly drawing close to her again. "She was great. She was you."

"Was she prettier than me?"

He laughed. He couldn't help it. "No one is prettier than you."

She sat up, arms wrapped around her knees. Her hair fell loose and soft around her face as she watched him with eyes that seemed even larger and darker than usual. "You said we were married. You liked that, didn't you? And you liked her, too, I can tell. Do you like her more than me?"

Tears shimmered and even though he knew it was the alcohol talking, Barry couldn't let her cry. The mattress creaked when he sank down beside her. He took her hand in his. "Of course not. She was great but . . . you're my Iris. No one means more to me than you do."

Her fingers twined through his, a fragile link holding a willing prisoner in place. "Did you kiss her? You were married, you must have kissed her."

"Technically she kissed me." The feeble attempt to inject humor into the suddenly taut atmosphere fell flat. The tears came back, fat drops of crystal that slid over her cheeks and melted the last of his resistance to fate. "Iris . . ."

"You kissed her," she sniffed piteously, "but you've never kissed me."

Barry's mouth opened and then closed. Once before, he had kissed her. He could still feel the sting of the frigid wind blowing across the water, and hear her voice as she confessed to thoughts of him. But then he'd erased that timeline, and so those memories were his alone.

Now, sitting in the intimacy of darkness, he didn't think. He simply acted. He cupped her face in his hands and touched her lips with his. A spark of electricity sizzled in the air around them. In concert, two heartbeats stuttered to a stop and restarted with a thump. Neither breathed, neither moved until finally Barry drew back just far enough to rest his forehead against hers. Noses touching, they exhaled together, then filled their lungs with the same breath.

Barry watched as Iris' lashes rose slowly. Her sultry smile was a different kind of intoxication.

"Kiss me again."

It took a strength of will he didn't know he possessed to shake his head. He got to his feet and stepped back, away from her.

"You're a little drunk, Iris, so I think . . . I think you should just . . . just get some sleep. That's what you need right now. Just sleep. Just . . . sleep."

Her mouth pursed in a moue of disappointment but she lay back against the pillows and watched him stumble to the door.

"Goodnight, Iris."

"Barry?"

Expression wary, he looked back. "Yea?"

"I won't be drunk tomorrow."

She was already asleep when his brain started working again and her words registered. Unable to do anything else, he closed the door behind him then stood there for a few minutes, eyes closed, leaning into it while he listed all the reasons why leaving had been the right thing to do. He opened them to see Joe coming up the stairs, holding Iris' jacket in one hand and her purse in the other.

Guilty of intent if not action, Barry quickly stepped away from Iris' door. "I can explain . . ."

Joe's dark scowl turned thunderous as he read the younger man's face like a book.

"You damn well better!"

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 _Let's hope Barry talks as fast as he runs. :-)_

 _Thanks for reading!_


	5. A Journey of A Thousand Miles

_Episode tag for 2.17: Flash Back._

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He left her alone with the ghost of a dead man. The voice followed Barry up the stairs but he already knew the words by heart. He'd been the one to record them, after all. It was his hands holding the phone while Eddie smiled and gushed and poured out his love in a promise he never had the chance to keep.

Guilt sat heavy on Barry's shoulders as he made it to his room and closed the door, shutting himself into silence. He sat down at the desk and opened his laptop with the vague idea of using work as a distraction, but minutes passed with no more progress than typing in a password. His mind was on Iris, on the pain in her eyes, on the hope that he'd done the right thing.

On the fear that he hadn't.

A soft knock startled him out of his reverie. Before he could do more than half-rise from the chair, the door opened by an inch.

"Barry? Can I come in?"

"Yea, sure. Of course."

He was on his feet instantly, widening the gap and gesturing her inside. When she took the chair he'd just vacated, he perched on the edge of his bed and sat facing her. It was obvious she'd been crying, and the evidence of her tears twisted painfully in his gut.

"Iris . . ."

"You have some explaining to do."

She interrupted him with a tiny smile that bordered on tart. When she held up his phone, confusion changed to alarm. His mind raced.

 _Did she figure out I went back in time and recorded that? How could she know that? What did I do wrong . . ._ Barry almost groaned out loud. _The date stamp on the video._ _Of course. How could I forget the date stamp . . ._

He was so busy berating himself for the mistake he was sure he'd made that it took a few seconds before he realized the photo she was showing him wasn't one of Eddie, it was of her. And the real Iris was none too pleased with it or with him.

"Where did you get this?"

Relief made him laugh. She was thirteen in the picture (he knew that because he'd been there the day it was taken), with a fading pattern of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and bangs. When he remembered how much she now claimed to hate those bangs, he laughed again.

"I downloaded it from Facebook. When you added Wally to your friends list, you were comparing school pictures, remember? I was afraid it would disappear forever so I saved it."

Iris gave him a good frown, then turned the phone back around to glower at the photograph. "I have braces. And what's with my hair? How many butterfly clips can one head hold?"

Barry's grin widened. The subject of their middle-school awkwardness seemed to ease the air of sadness from earlier, and he was happy to see a sparkle of humour replace the glimmer of tears.

"I don't know but I think I have some pictures around here from our eighth grade formal. We could count them and see."

She was comically horrified. "You promised to burn those pictures, Barry Allen! I don't want any trace of them left behind!"

When their laughter faded, Iris offered the phone back to him. The atmosphere turned somber again.

"Thank you."

Barry tossed the phone on the bed behind him and reached for her hands. The wheels of the desk chair squeaked when he drew her closer.

"Are you okay?"

One slender shoulder rose in a shrug. Her attention seemed focused on watching her fingers play absently with his. "Yea, I am. It's just hard, you know? I think about him, about what life might be like if he were here. And . . ." The pause was so brief as to be almost unnoticeable. " . . . then there's you."

Barry was taken aback. He studied the smooth line of her forehead and the sweep of her downcast lashes. "Me?"

She glanced up with a teasing, if bittersweet, smile. "Iris West-Allen? It seems the only version of me that isn't married to you is this one. I can't help but wonder why that is."

For the span of a minute, Barry forgot to breathe, conscious only of the feel of her hands in his and the depth in the rich brown eyes that stared back. When he finally spoke, his voice held the softness of old velvet.

"I guess those other versions of me were smart enough not to lose you."

Around them, the house settled into the night. Hardwood floors creaked in the changing temperatures. The refrigerator hummed to life. A rabbit darting across the backyard triggered a flood of light at the corner of the garage. Inside the bedroom, oblivious to everything else, Barry and Iris faced each other across a gap that was at once much greater than the space between their bodies, and much smaller than it had been only a few hours before.

The air was taut with words left unspoken. Uncertainty lingered; fearful of change that might destroy instead of create, burdened by memories of failure and haunted by a ghost that had not yet been vanquished, they remained silent. Their hands were still joined, however, and that connection said what they, for the moment, could not.

An efficient series of beeps from Barry's phone finally intruded. He gave Iris a crooked grin.

"Cisco."

Her smile was as warm as sunshine. "You didn't even look."

Barry shrugged. "He's the only one that texts me this late. Except you and since you're here . . ."

Iris laughed and, with obvious reluctance, pulled her hands free of his and stood.

"I should be getting home anyway. I have work tomorrow."

"Right. Work."

Barry got to his feet, too, and with nothing else to do with his hands, crossed his arms over his chest. He was careful to keep any hint of jealousy over her new boss from his tone but the hint of mischief in Iris' smile said his efforts were less than successful.

He waited downstairs while she gathered her things, then followed her out to the little coupe parked in the driveway. When the engine rumbled to life, he patted the roof and stepped back.

"Send me a text when you get there."

Iris hesitated before backing out. "Do you . . . do you want to meet for lunch tomorrow?"

Surprised, Barry nonetheless nodded at once. "Sure. Yea, that sounds good."

The stars in the night-time sky sparkled a little brighter when she smiled. "Then I guess it's a date."

With a cheerful wave of her hand, Iris drove away.

Barry stood in the driveway watching after her long after the tail-lights of her car had disappeared.

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 _I can't get over Barry just handing Iris his phone and walking away. That's trust right there, on both ends. (And I love the idea of him keeping old pictures of Iris, too. That's just all kinds of sweet.)_

 _Thanks for reading!_


	6. Trial and Error

_I don't write M-fic but you should consider this rating a very strong T._

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Barry Allen was fast. Well, obviously he was fast. Barry Allen was the Flash and the Flash was "the fastest man alive." Iris knew that but to her, he was also just Barry and when they spent time together, he wasn't the Flash. He was Barry. When she looked at him, she didn't see the Flash. She saw Barry. And when she fell in love, she fell in love with Barry.

Barry Allen had always loved Iris West so it was perhaps an ironic twist of fate that when they were finally in love at the same time - with each other - it was "the fastest man alive" who wanted to slow things down.

Especially . . . well, sex.

He wanted everything to be perfect.

Iris, however, just wanted him and the more . . . _enthusiastic_ . . . she was in demonstrating just how ready she was to stop thinking and start doing, the harder it became for Barry to remember why he wanted to take it slow.

It wasn't long before he realized that his Iris ( _"His" Iris. Even thinking those words made him smile.)_ had a lot more in common with the Iris on Earth-Two than he at first supposed. That Iris - the tough, edgy cop, the one who had no compunction about stripping down in the living room or shoving her husband into a wall for an impromptu make-out session, the one who, if he were totally honest, scared him a little - that Iris had nothing on his Iris when it came to tenacity and determination.

His Iris listened to him stammer about not rushing her, about how he'd loved her his whole life and how he didn't mind waiting until she was really, really sure . . . and then she shut him up with a kiss.

It was hard to think of anything when he was kissing Iris, let alone reasons to stop. That first kiss they'd shared, the one she didn't remember but he couldn't forget . . . that kiss out in the cold hadn't prepared him for the reality of having a warm, willing, persistent Iris in his arms, kissing him back. Had her lips always been that soft? Her breath filling his mouth that sweet?

Had she always had more hands than a normal person?!

"Iris . . . Iris, stop. We have to . . . stop . . ."

She was straddling his lap, her mouth on his neck, one hand tangled in his hair and the other tugging at his belt. Barry was almost positive he felt the fingers of another hand digging into his back and still another one sliding under his shirt. How could someone so small touch him in so many places at once?

"Why?" Her eyes were heavy with desire and when her lashes dropped again, he realized where his own hands were - cupping her breasts through the thin lace of a minuscule bra, coaxing the dusky nipples to hard peaks with the graze of his thumbs.

She'd been asking him the same question for weeks. Why?

"Because . . ." With effort, he forced his thumbs to still and held her gaze. "Because, it will change everything."

It took a moment for his words to filter past the haze of lust that surrounded them like a cloud but when they did, Iris only smiled, tender in the face of his fear that this giant leap forward might one day turn against them.

"Barry, everything has already changed." She flattened her palms across the front of his shirt, half-unbuttoned from the busy work of her fingers. "Everything changed when you moved in with us when we were kids. It changed again when you were struck by that lightning, and then when I met Eddie and when he died." She leaned forward and touched his lips with hers. "At least this time it will change because we want it to. Because of something we decide. Together."

This time, he was the one who couldn't look away. Her dark eyes were endlessly deep, shining and clear . . . and sure. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty.

Love surged through his body, hot, strong and pure, the same love that had pulled him from the speed force and back to this life. Back to Iris.

"I love you," he said. The simple words were a promise and when her eyes filled with tears, he knew she understood.

"I love you." The soft whisper rang with truth. "And I want to make love with you."

When she slid off his lap and held out her hand, the moment seemed inevitable.

In her bedroom, Barry stopped her when she began to lift the hem of the light summer dress she wore.

"Let me. Please."

He took his time undressing her, lavishing every newly-revealed silky patch of skin with kisses, committing every curve to memory, worshiping her body in all the ways he'd only dreamed about. Iris' breathless gasps encouraged him; the sensual assault continued until she writhed helplessly on the bed, begging for release.

His own clothes were dispensed with almost perfunctorily. Naked now, too, he nudged her thighs open with the touch of his knees and stroked the silken folds at her core with the light touch of his fingers.

"God . . . Barry . . ."

The husky moan sent a spike of heat stabbing through him. He didn't know what was more beautiful – the rapturous expression on her face or the small, perfect curves lying bare beneath him. His head dipped and for the first time, he experienced the scent and taste that was uniquely Iris.

The combination was intoxicating. His hands slid beneath her bottom as he pulled her closer, lapping at the honey her body produced like a starving man given one final meal. Her fingers threaded through his hair and bit into his skull, holding him a willing prisoner while she undulated against his lips and tongue. Barry growled as he feasted, the raspy sound mingling with her high, keening wail to fill the room.

An idea occurred to him. With other lovers, he'd carefully maintained the façade of being a normal man with no extraordinary powers but with Iris, he could be wholly himself – both Barry Allen and the Flash. The possibilities were endless, and the potential for giving her pleasure limitless. Without further thought, he let his face vibrate against her tender flesh.

The effect was instantaneous – and not quite the reaction he expected or hoped for. Iris shrieked and scrambled away from him.

"Wh . . . what was that?"

Barry was left hunched uncertainly at the foot of the bed. "It's just . . . something I can do," he stammered. "You know, like on the rooftop at Jitters, before you know who I was. I thought I'd give it a try . . ."

"Well, you could have warned me!" Her eyes were still wide, her cheeks flushed and the beat of a rapidly fluttering pulse was visible at the hollow of her throat but the initial alarm was fading. The humour of the moment struck them at the same time – both naked, separated by a foot of empty bed, with the heavy thrum of need vibrating in the air around them.

It was also impossible to miss the understanding dawning on Iris' face as she considered the potential of what he'd just done. Of what he could do.

Barry's tongue snaked out, tasting her again in the moisture coating his lips. One hand crept up the slender curve of her calf. "So, do you want me to stop—"

"No!" She was quick to cut him off. "No, definitely not."

"Well, okay then."

Iris shrieked again, this time with laughter when, without warning, Barry grabbed her hips and tugged her down to him once more. One light touch on his shoulder made him pause.

"So, does . . . _everything_ . . . vibrate?"

Barry met the naked lust in her eyes with a smile as sinful as an apple offered in a garden.

"Let's find out."

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 _#WestAllen is rising. Hallelujah and thank the Lord!_

 _And thank you for reading!_


	7. Tumblr Fic: A Day at the Park

_Apologies in advance for the alert spam. I have three pieces of short, quick fanfic I've posted on Tumblr that I want to add here, so all of my WestAllen-related stories are in one place. Also, apologies if you've already read them on Tumblr.  
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 _This one was written after I saw a gorgeous piece of WestAllen family fanart drawn by infallible-dreamers. If you haven't seen it, send me an email or find me on Tumblr and I'll link you. It really is beautiful.  
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They only looked away for a few seconds, just one quick glance as they talked about plans for dinner, but that was all it took. A shout of anger, a cry of pain, and an even louder voice yelling, "Don't hurt my sister!" and Barry and Iris were rushing toward the biggest playset at their local park, and the opening battle of World War III that seemed to be breaking out.

At least their side was winning, Barry thought, as Iris scooped up a sobbing Dawn and cuddled the little girl against her shoulder. Don, meanwhile, stood over a boy who looked to be twice his size, his little face scrunched into a thunderous scowl, hands hanging in small fists at his side, almost as if he were daring the other child to get back up.

Barry stepped between the two, effectively separating them by dropping to squat at his son's level. "Hey, hey, hey. What's going on here?"

"He pushed Dawn!"

"Nuh uh! She fell!"

Before Don could answer that challenge to his honesty, the other parent arrived, full of embarrassed outrage.

"Bradley Tyler Munson! What did I tell you about being nice today! Did you push that little girl?"

"It was my turn to play with the telescope and she wouldn't move!" With his mother there, Bradley got to his feet, a pout on his face and a whine in his voice. He pointed to the telescope in question, a bright green tube on a swiveling lever that offered a blurry, 90 degree view of the playground.

Don immediately tried to force his way past Barry. "No, it wasn't your turn!" he yelled. "You're just a bully! Nobody hurts my sister!"

Barry managed to catch him in time, and held fast while Bradley was forced to mumble an apology. When he was marched away without ceremony, Barry leaned over to press a kiss against Dawn's forehead.

"You okay, baby?" She nodded, but when she sniffed piteously and peeped at him through damp, spikey lashes, he and Iris exchanged a smile over her head. "You know what? I think you and Lancelot here need some ice cream. How does that sound?"

Don bounced on his toes and answered for both of them. "Ice cream!"

Barry laughed and lifted him up to sit on his shoulders. As the little family headed out of the park, he sent Iris a dry glance. "So much for a quite Saturday at the park, huh?"

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 _Thanks for reading!_


	8. Tumblr Fic: PawPaw Joe

_A short tag for S2.22, set in the future because they can't possibly hint at PawPaw Joe and the Tornado Twins and not let us have some fun with it._

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Two small bodies hurtled toward Joe before he even got both feet inside Barry and Iris' front door. He caught one quick glimpse of faces smeared with green . . . something . . . before they scooted between his legs and ducked behind him.

"Help, PawPaw!"  
"Don't let Mommy find us!"

"What the . . ."

"NORA DAWN! DONALD HENRY! YOU TWO COME BACK UP HERE RIGHT NOW!"

Iris' outraged voice explained some of the twins' frantic rush to escape; the fierce scowl as she stomped down the stairs added context. Still, Joe reached back to hold one skinny set of shoulders in each hand and spread his feet to provide a wider shelter for the kids.

"What did they do?"

Iris held up a crushed tube of cream that had been squeezed into emptiness.

"My kale and seaweed facial creme! I just bought this - it cost me over $150 and now it's gone!"

Well, that explained the green goop he'd seen. He glanced down to find Dawn peeking out from beside his hip, her face shining with stripes of rapidly drying green cream. She blinked up innocently.

"We were going to play Ninja Turtles . . ."

". . . so we had to be green."

As often happened, Don finished his sister's sentence. The little dimple in his cheek was Joe's undoing. He straightened his shoulders and met his daughter's ire head on.

"Seems to me something that costs that much money shouldn't have been left where they could find it."

Iris gasped. "I was going to put it away, I just hadn't had time! And they know better than to play in our bathroom anyway!" She gave both of her children a stern frown. "You two are grounded! No television for a week!"

"Uh uh. You ain't punishing my grandbabies just for being kids. This is your own fault." Joe shook his head and, heedless of the green slime smearing his suit, gathered both children under his arms. "Come on, my babies. You want PawPaw to buy you some ice cream?"

"Dad!" Iris stomped one foot in frustration when the twins bounced on their toes and shouted in unison. "You can't take them out for ice cream every time they get in trouble!"

Joe huffed and turned his back on her. Holding each child by the hand, he led them outside.

"I'm PawPaw. I can do what I want."

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 _(p.s., I know I changed Dawn and Don's full names. It's fanfiction. I'm taking liberties.)_

 _Thanks for reading!_


	9. Tumblr Fic: Sleeping Beauty

_Written after seeing another lovely piece of fanart by sassandsassagain. Truly, there are some amazingly talented artists in_ The Flash _fandom! Let me know if you want a link to the drawing.  
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The bed shifting beside him woke Barry from a sound sleep. His eyes opened reluctantly.

"Huh? Whaaa . . ."

Iris didn't answer. Moving almost as fast as he could, she was halfway to the bathroom with one hand slapped over her mouth when he finally sat up.

Mystery solved. Yawning all the way, he followed her inside. The sound of her retching made his own stomach queasy as he ran cold water over a wash cloth.

"Here." He knelt beside her; brushing her hair out of the way, he laid the damp cloth against the side of her neck. "Better?"

"Blech." Iris spat once more into the toilet bowl, then shut the lid and flushed it. Eyes closed, she flattened the washcloth against her forehead instead. "I hate you."

Since she couldn't see him, Barry considered it safe enough to smile when she pouted. "I know, I'm sorry. The books say that morning sickness only lasts a few weeks though, so . . ."

Her lashes rose to reveal a sizzling glare directed at him. "Stop talking."

His mouth snapped closed. He sat down on the wide ledge of the tub instead, and pulled her across his lap. When she whimpered, he scooted backward until he was leaning against the wall, and cuddled her into his chest.

"Rest for a bit. When you're ready, I'll carry you back to bed."

Iris yawned and obligingly tucked her head beneath his chin. "What time is it?"

"Not quite six." His voice was hushed and soothing in the shadowed little bathroom. "We still have an hour or so before we have to be up."

"Okay. Gimme a minute, in case it comes back." When Iris yawned again, so did Barry.

"Mmmm. Just say when."

They were both sound asleep within minutes.


	10. Tumblr Fic: First Kiss

_Spoilers for S2.23. Written for the spoiler picture of Barry and Iris, sitting on the front porch of the West home, kissing._

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Barry knew she was there, just inside the door, watching him. He also knew she'd stand there until he invited her into his private moment.

His head turned a few degrees as he looked at the empty space beside him. "Hey."

The door opened before the sound of the word faded.

"Hey." Taking her welcome for granted now, Iris sat down and angled her body toward him. Although he didn't look at her, he could feel her eyes on his profile, studying him. Her concern washed over him with the warmth of a touch. "Barry . . . I know what you're thinking."

"Do you know how many kids grow up without a father?" He didn't expect an answer, and didn't wait for one before he finally turned to face her. "I was lucky enough to have two and now . . ."

"Zoom." The word sounded like a curse.

"Jay." Barry corrected her in the same tone. "He hid behind the name of a monster but that's over. He's Jay Garrick – and he's just a man." He shrugged and when he smiled, it was devoid of humor. "He's a man, like I am, and you know what? He was right. We are just alike."

Iris immediately protested. "That's not true - -"

Barry shook his head, silencing her. "It is, but that's okay because it means I can beat him. All he has is hate and I have . . ."

When he paused, Iris simply waited, her attention wholly focused on him. A shaft of late-afternoon sun found sparks of auburn in her hair, setting them ablaze and surrounding her with light. A memory flashed by – the look on her face the night before when they'd so easily talked of a future together. Just now, with her eyes faintly swollen and her nose pink from the tears that still clung to her lashes, that chance at happiness seemed one more thing Jay was trying to steal from him.

The thought strengthened Barry's resolve. His chest rose as he breathed deep.

"I'm not going to let him take anything else from us, Iris," he vowed. "Nothing."

When her gaze dropped to his lips, he leaned in as if she'd whispered his name. Responding to the same siren's call of destiny, Iris met him halfway.

The spark wasn't visible this time, not as it had been when the touch of their hands had inadvertently revealed the truth of his identity, but they felt it just the same. It turned a kiss into a promise, and a promise into the first step on the road fate had waiting for them all along. As his lips brushed hers, the universe sighed and shifted . . . and smiled.

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 _It occurred to me after I wrote this that Barry should have said Hunter Zolomon, since that's really who Zoom is. But I think of him as Jay and judging by Barry's begging at the end of 2.22, he thinks of him as Jay, too, so . . ._

 _Thanks for reading!_


	11. Tumblr Fic: Gratitude

_Using the same spoiler pic for 2.23, of Barry and Iris kissing on the front porch but taking the moment a bit further into the future._

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She expects him to follow her inside the house but he doesn't. Surprised, Iris looks back and sees Barry still standing on the front porch, staring out into the street. As she watches, he sinks down to the top step.

The screen door opens with a squeak of metal when she pushes against it. "Barry?"

He doesn't answer but she sees the furtive swipe of one hand against his cheek and her heart melts.

"Baby …" She squeezes his shoulder and sits down beside him. "Are you okay?"

He shrugs; when he slants a glance toward her, she sees the glimmer of tears still shining in his eyes and he sees the gentle, understanding smile she doesn't even try to hide. They both laugh, even though it's at his expense.

Iris pats his knee with exaggerated - but loving - sympathy. "Maybe you should have gone to work today."

"And miss their first day of school? Not gonna happen." The waterworks have dried up but Barry wipes at his cheek one last time and looks down the street as if searching for the small yellow school bus that carried his children away. "You know, I was thinking …" He tries to sound nonchalant but Iris isn't fooled. "What if I paid a surprise visit, you know, as the Flash? I could just … pop in every once in a while."

"I think that would make a bunch of kindergartners very happy - and if you make a habit of showing up to visit the twins at school, your secret won't be a secret for very long." Iris attempts to be stern but the sweetness of her emotional husband overcome with his feelings makes it impossible. She pats his knee again. "They'll be home at one o'clock. Think you'll be okay 'til then?"

He knows she's laughing at him - again - and laughs with her. Again. And then he grows serious.

"Thank you."

She picks up on the change in tone. "For what?"

"For them. For this." Barry's head tilts toward the street and the long-gone school bus, and to the house behind them. Then he simply looks at her. "For being Iris West-Allen."

Now it is Iris who wipes away tears. She leans in for a kiss.

"Who am I to fight destiny?"

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 _I want WestAllen babies! :-)_


	12. A Father's Prerogative

It was just past dawn when Barry snuck into the house, a furtive activity that had become somewhat frequent since his relationship with Iris crossed the line into intimacy. As the door closed behind him with a soft _snick,_ he congratulated himself on once again making it home unnoticed.

That's when Joe stepped out of the kitchen, coffee cup in hand.

Barry froze as solidly as if he'd been snared by Snart's cold gun, which was strange considering his skin suddenly felt like it was made of fire. Eyes wide, mouth open, cheeks mottled crimson, he stared at the man who'd mostly raised him and tried to remember if Iris had marked him during the night in any place that might be visible. When Joe's gaze dropped down his chest, the memory of a button flying across her bedroom had his fingers flying to cover the empty spot on his shirt where it should have been.

For once, the Flash was a second too late.

Joe took a sip of coffee and then set the cup aside in a gesture so casual Barry's senses immediately tingled with warning.

"I love you," he said. "You know that, don't you?"

"Um . . ." Barry swallowed hard to get past the lump in his throat that made speech almost impossible. His always rapid pulse pounded even harder. " . . . Yea. I know."

Languid strides brought Joe closer. Glittering dark eyes fixed the younger man in place and held him there.

"I raised you like a son. Treated you like a son." One corner of his mouth lifted in a gesture that could have been a smile . . . except it wasn't. "I think of you as a son. You know that, too, right?"

Barry's head dipped in the tiniest of nods. Like a cobra dancing to the hypnotic sound of a flute, he was unable to look away from the dangerous man in front of him. "Uh huh . . ."

In a move so fast it would have done the Flash proud, Joe grabbed his shirt with two fists and slammed him back against the wall next to the front door. Barry bounced hard enough to make the pictures hanging there rattle.

"Good, because if you hurt my daughter, all of that is over." Joe's face was so close, their noses almost touched. The familiar warmth was gone from his eyes, leaving them hard and flat, and lethally cold. His voice, barely loud enough to reach Barry's ears, was a menacing whisper. "If I see one tear, just one, you will answer to me, Barry Allen. Got that? Superhero or not, I will end you." With the shirt still knotted in his hands, he gave the younger man a rough shake to emphasize his words. "Do we understand each other?"

Barry was already nodding, this time repeatedly and insistently. "Yes. I understand. I understand. I do."

"I thought you would." Joe released him with a broad smile, and just like that, the terrifyingly dangerous man disappeared into the affectionate father-figure he'd always been. Calm and at ease, he picked up the coffee mug he'd set aside earlier and headed for the door. He patted Barry's shoulder on the way out. "I'll see you at the station."

As his car pulled out of the driveway, Barry slid bonelessly down the wall.


	13. The Talk

When he was five years old, Don Allen got into a fight at school. It wasn't his fault.

Actually, it was Barry's.

The story tumbled out as two still-simmering little boys and three of their parents sat together in the principal's office.

"As you know, we take our behavior policy very seriously here." Dr. Skinner sat behind her desk, hands folded calmly on the blotter, and let her glance touch each adult. "What I should do is send both boys home for the rest of the week and hope it teaches them a lesson."

Barry shifted in his chair and gave the principal a hopeful smile. "That seems a little extreme. I mean, the boys were wrong to fight but it's the first time either of them have been in trouble. Personally, I think a little leniency is called for. We'll have a long talk with Don, of course, but if they both apologize . . . "

"I'm not apologizing for nothing!" Arms crossed over his narrow chest, Don's chin jutted out in a way that was eerily similar to his Pawpaw Joe. The scowl on his face as he glared at the other boy added to the resemblance.

"Anything. You're not apologizing for anything . . . Never mind." Iris sighed and leaned over to lay a hand on his knee. "Donnie, sweetheart . . . "

"He called me a liar! I'm not a liar!"

"Are, too!" His nemesis, a pugnacious redhead whose freckles were almost buried beneath an angry flush, grew even redder as he yelled back. "Liar! Liar! Liar!"

"Chad Willoughby! That's enough! You apologize right now!" Chad's mother grabbed his arm and gave it a little shake. "Right now!"

While Chad remained obstinately silent, Don looked at his parents with outrage.

"I told him how we forgot ice cream for Uncle Cisco's birthday but Daddy was so fast, he brought some back from the store before you even finished lighting the candles! And he called me a liar!"

Over his head, Barry and Iris' eyes caught and held, filled with dismay. Although they'd had several conversations about how and when - - and if - - they should tell the twins about Barry's powers, up to this point, the children hadn't seemed to notice anything different about him. That streak of luck, apparently, had run out.

"Well, buddy . . . "

"Honey . . . "

Fortunately for them, Chad's mother interrupted. "Chad! You called this little boy a liar just for playing make-believe? I'm ashamed of you! You know better than that! Now apologize! I mean it! Tell him you're sorry!"

"But I wasn't playing make-believe! Daddy really did mmmfph mmmmfph . . . "

Whatever else Don might have said was muffled behind the hand Barry used to cover his mouth. Conscious of Dr. Skinner watching, he lowered his eyebrows and gave his son a stern look.

"Don, you need to apologize, too. Fighting at school is not an option."

"But - - "

"Don."

"Chad." Chad's mother was equally as determined. Faced with a unified front, the two boys bowed to parental pressure and mumbled out apologies that were as reluctant as they were obviously insincere.

In the face of Dr. Skinner's continued disapproval, Barry tried another smile. "I can promise you this will never happen again. Besides, you know how kids are. Scuffling one minute and best friends the next. They'll probably forget all about this by tomorrow. We'll have a long talk with Don tonight and make sure he understands that fighting is unacceptable."

"And this is definitely not over for you either, young man." Chad's mother gave her son a dark, pointed look. "Just wait until your father hears about this."

Dr. Skinner's lips pursed in tight bud. "Very well. Given their ages and the fact that this is the first time either boy has been in trouble, I can amend the usual punishment. Once," she added, the threat clear. "If it happens again . . . "

"It won't. It definitely won't," Barry promised. He and Iris quickly got to their feet and shuffled Don out into the adjoining room where Dawn waited, her eyes fastened anxiously on the closed door of the principal's office. They bundled her into her jacket and hurried both kids out to the car. When Don tried once more to defend himself, he was shushed to silence.

At home, Barry and Iris set the twins up with an after-school snack and then, by unspoken agreement, retreated to the furthest corner of the living room.

"What are we going to do?" Barry kept his voice low and his gaze trained on the doorway to the kitchen, just in case the children appeared.

Iris paced back and forth in front of the big picture window that looked into their backyard. "I don't know. I mean, we knew this would happen eventually, right? They're getting older, and they're smart. It's only natural that they're starting to notice when you flash back and forth." She sent him a frown that reminded him of his sometimes reckless disregard for attracting attention. "You're not exactly careful sometimes."

Barry sighed. "I know. I just didn't think about it. I guess I thought we had more time. They never paid much attention to how long I was gone . . . or wasn't gone."

"Well, they're paying attention now," Iris said grimly.

"Yea." A few seconds of quiet passed before Barry spoke again. "You know, we could always pretend that they really didn't see . . . . "

His voice faded away when Iris looked at him in horror. "We are not gaslighting our children, Barry!"

His shoulders slumped. "Well, when you put it like that it doesn't sound like such a good idea."

Iris glanced at the archway that led to the kitchen, through which two young voices could be heard chattering over each other.

"We're going to have to tell them the truth," she said finally. "At least the basics."

Barry's gaze followed hers. He moved to her side and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Do you think they're old enough to handle it?"

"I guess they have to be." Her fingers caught his and squeezed. Another moment passed before they each took a deep, steadying breath. Then Iris called out, "Don? Dawnie? Come out here, please. Daddy and I want to talk to you."

Silence fell in the kitchen. After a few minutes, chairs scraped against the floor and then the twins were standing in the archway, holding hands.

They were beautiful children. Much the same height, with soft brown skin and the same thick halo of loose corkscrew curls, their eyes were dark and luminous, and as big as quarters as they stared at their parents.

"It's not my fault," Don blurted. "Chad started it! He - - "

Iris smiled and shook her head. He had a smear of milk across his upper lip and a dab of strawberry jelly on his chin. Her heart melted with love. "That's not what we want to talk to you about, honey. Come here."

Brother and sister looked at the hand she held out and then at each other, silently communicating as they had done since they came into the world with arms intertwined. Then they sighed heavily and trudged over to sit together in the big recliner Barry usually claimed as his.

Barry and Iris exchanged a glance filled with amusement over the dramatic response. They were careful to keep their expressions calm, though, when they pulled up a wide ottoman and sat down facing their children.

"Okay," Barry began, fidgeting a bit under the weight of their direct gaze. "What you saw at Uncle Cisco's party, when I left to get ice cream and then came back while Mommy was lighting the candles . . . Well, you're right. I'm really fast."

Don shrugged matter-of-factly. "I know. We saw you."

"Yes, I know you did." Barry rubbed at the back of his neck. "The thing is, well, I'm going to need you to keep a secret for me."

The children looked at each other and then back at him.

"Is it a good secret - - "  
" - - or a bad secret?"  
"Because you told us some secrets are bad - - "  
" - - and we don't have to keep bad secrets."

Dawn and Don Allen had been finishing each other's sentences since they first learned to talk. It was as unnerving now as it had been the first time it happened.

"Well, yea," Barry managed. "We did tell you that. But this is a good secret. Promise."

Once again, the children looked at each other in silent communication, then, simultaneously, folded their arms over their chests and looked at him impassively. The words ' _we'll be the judge of that'_ hung unspoken in the air.

Covering her mouth to hide a smile, Iris looked at Barry and shrugged. "Maybe you should show them."

"Okay. Yea, okay. I'll show them." He slapped his knees and got to his feet, waving one hand toward the twins as if to hold them in place. "Stay right there, okay? I'll be right back." Suddenly, he grinned. "I mean, I'll be _right back."_

And with a rustle of wind that carried with it a hint of something faintly electric, he was gone. Almost before the kids could react to his disappearance, however, he was back, now clad in a familiar suit of deep red.

As he pushed the cowl and mask back to reveal his face, Don and Dawn jumped out of the recliner.

"You have a Flash suit?" Don cried.

That was not the reaction he expected. Nonplussed, Barry hesitated. "Well, yea. I mean, yes, I have a suit. I'm - - "

The children crowded close, and reached with curious hands to touch him.

"Where did you get it?" Dawn asked.

"Does the Flash know you have it?"

Still seated, Iris began to laugh. Barry gave her a disgruntled look before turning once more to his children.

"Yes, he knows . . . no, that's not what I mean . . ." He gave up and started over. "Kids, I'm the Flash."

The twins stared at him without blinking for the span of a full minute. Then the questions tumbled out.

"Do you know Batman?"  
"Can we meet Batman?"  
"Does he really live in a cave?"  
"Have you ever raced the Batmobile?"  
"Are you faster than Batman?"

Convulsing with laughter, Iris rolled over and buried her face in the soft suede that covered the footstool. When she glanced up, Barry's expression set her off again.

"If you could see your face . . . "

Barry nudged her over with his hip and sat down in the space he'd created. He grabbed a hand of each child with one of his.

"Guys, that's not what this is about, okay?"

"But do you know Batman?" Don was not going to be sidetracked.

"Yes, but . . ."

"Can we meet him?" Dawn was equally as determined.

"Well, Gotham is on the other side of the country so . . ."

"But you could get there in like five minutes," Don pointed out.

"No, it would probably take longer . . ."

"Can I have a Flash suit, too?"

Dawn's question had Iris popping up to sit straight. One scarlet-tipped finger pointed at her own chest. "Hey, now. If anyone is getting a suit, it's going to be me."

"But I want a suit!"

"Me, too!"

As the twins bickered, Barry looked at Iris helplessly. "When did I lose control of this?"

She patted his shoulder and leaned over to kiss his cheek, full of mock sympathy. "When they were born, honey."

"That's what I thought." Barry pinched the bridge of his nose, then, without warning, grabbed both children and drew them into his arms and squeezed tight. "Listen, this is important."

Don's chin jutted out stubbornly. "Batman's important."

"Yes, he is." Barry raised his voice when Don opened his mouth again. "But I don't want to talk about Batman right now. This is about me being the Flash. That's a secret, and I need you to keep that secret. Okay? You can't talk about it, to anyone. Not at school. Not anywhere. Do you understand what I'm saying? You can't tell anyone your dad is the Flash."

The twins shrugged as if the keeping of weighty secrets was nothing unusual.

"Okay."

"We won't tell anyone."

Their easy agreement seemed too easy. Barry and Iris exchanged an uncertain glance.

"Are you sure? We aren't playing, guys. This is serious. You can't talk about this with anyone but us, here at home."

Tiny white baby teeth appeared as Dawn nibbled at her lower lip. "Not even Pawpaw?"

"Pawpaw is okay," Barry smiled. "He knows about me, too."

Don's head tilted as he regarded his father curiously. "What about Uncle Wally?"

"Uncle Wally knows," Barry assured him.

"What about Aunt Linda? And Uncle Cisco?"

Somewhat reluctantly, Barry nodded. "Well, they know the secret, too."

Dawn looked at him almost with pity. "You're not very good at keeping secrets, are you, Daddy?"

Barry couldn't help but laugh, and dragged her into his lap. As her high-pitched, childish giggling danced in the air, he tickled her mercilessly and growled, "I'll show you what I am good at, young lady!"

Don retreated to the comparative safety of his mother's arms and snuggled in close. When she pressed a kiss against his forehead, he blinked up innocently.

"Do you know Batman?"


End file.
